This is S3 episode 8! Thank you everyone for your feedback and for letting me know how much you've enjoyed the journey so far. This is one of my favorites... I hope you enjoy it too! It has a little bit of everything in it.
Again, here is the list of stories so far:
S3E1: The Restoration of Brothers
S3E2: The Honor of Horses
S3E3: Sorrow
S3E4: Follow the Storm
S3E5: The Annihilation of Doubt
S3E6: The Parting Glass
S3E7: The Road to Verdun
Onward we go...
The Weight of War
Aramis pushed open the canvas flap and entered Athos' tent. Athos lay on his bunk, right arm draped over his eyes, his right knee raised and his left foot on the ground. He was one step away from sleep or battle, only time would decide.
"What is it, Aramis?" Athos asked. He didn't move.
"How did you know it was me?"
"Your cadence," Athos said, and slowly sat upright with a tired groan. He rested his right foot on the ground and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and he rubbed his face and then the back of his neck. His hair fell forward and shadowed his eyes.
"There are five captains out front who would like to meet with you — Captain Comtois said you were expecting them."
Athos nodded, hung his head for a brief moment, and relaxed his hands. "They don't have enough supplies," he said. "I have a feeling that their men know it. And with General Raboin's empty promises…" He took a deep breath as he stood.
"What do they expect you to do?"
"Get a message to Treville and the king," Athos said, and walked behind his desk. He flipped through a few pieces of paper, poured himself a glass of water, and then looked at Aramis. "I want to meet with you and the others this afternoon."
Aramis quirked a knowing smile. "We're going after them, aren't we? The wagons?"
"Quite possibly."
Aramis ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled slowly as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'll let them know. The cease-fire has continued. We've all agreed to rotate men from the fields. Allow everyone an opportunity to get a good night's sleep — at least while this lasts. Any word from Raboin on why the Spanish have paused in their aggression?"
"I'm sure I'll know more later."
Aramis turned, opened the tent, and allowed the sun to enter.
"Tie them back," Athos said. "The warmth of the sun feels good."
Aramis paused, glanced at Athos' because of his unusual request, and then did as asked. "I'll let them know you're ready for them."
Athos nodded, glanced at the map that still lay open on his desk, and took another look at the area where the Ramus Bridge was positioned. There were several along the Meuse River, but none of them with the width or length of the Ramus. While it was in an odd location, and off the main path from France to the Dutch Republic, King Henri had built it and reinforced it for a reason. Perhaps a reason even he was unaware of.
"What have you decided?" Captain Pruette said as he entered the tent. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood with his feet spread apart near the entry.
Athos exhaled slowly and watched the others enter and position themselves in the room. "My decisions are based on the needs of France, King Louis, and the Musketeers, not your or your men's need, Captain."
"Said like a true military man," Pruette said and chuckled when he looked toward Captain Duris.
"You don't believe the king will remove him from his position?" Captain Duris said.
"I cannot make an assumption about the king's decisions. I've sent word to Minister Treville that General Raboin is unstable and we are losing ground on the northeastern front."
"We'll be lucky to be alive by the time that letter reaches the minister — I suspect the letters are being intercepted," Captain Fain said. He shifted his feet and rubbed the back of his neck. "We need supplies —"
"I'm checking into a source and hope to have word in the next few days," Athos said.
"If Raboin continues with his current behavior, we may not have a few days… he has sent a large majority of his fighting men north and south of us and left us with a military a fraction of the size of Spain's. How much longer can we expect to fight cannons, Captain?"
"You asked me less than twelve hours ago for assistance," Athos said. He stood firm, his right hand on his belt, and his other pressed to his desk. "I'm fighting the same war. My men are in a situation similar to yours, and I am desperate for supplies as well."
"We should send the refugees to Paris —"
"They won't survive the trip to Paris — not alone," Athos said and looked hard at Pruette. "There are women and children, some are elderly, and a few are sick. As I told General Raboin, I will not abandon these people — they have provided us with nessesities we cannot afford to lose at the moment, and they have come seeking help from us!"
"We are in the middle of a war, Captain, or have you forgotten?"
"I am well aware of the war we are in, Captain Guidry." Athos clenched his jaw and swallowed. "I will not be a part of the deaths of innocent civilians due to a lack of foresight or planning."
"It's not murder to send them away," Comtois said with a frown and a shrug.
"No," Athos said, "but it would lead to that and I will not be a part of sending them away. If you want my help, you will respect my request."
"If the refugees are assisting — as you mentioned last night — then keeping them here may be a benefit…" Captain Fain said. "But how do we feed them and ourselves? We need ammunition, grain for the horses, bedding for the men. It's the middle of winter and only getting colder."
"We combine and ration our resources," Athos said. "I need time to hear from Minister Treville. Once I do, I'll let you know my plans."
"So… you are thinking about something?" Pruette said and cocked his eyebrow. "I don't care what," he said with a chuckle, "just as long as we're able to move forward in this war and not backward. I did not come here to lose."
"France will not lose ground to Spain," Duris said, and rubbed the left side of his nose. "We cannot allow it to happen."
"We won't," Comptois said. "But we will, unless something changes… our men cannot continue under these conditions."
Athos looked again at the map. "I need a few days." He glanced at the captains. "I'll let you know what I have planned when the time is right." He paused a moment and said, "Has there been any word about General Thorell?"
Captain Fain shrugged, and with his arms crossed over his chest, he tightened his hands around his biceps. "Last I heard, he was making his way north, but was delayed when the fighting increased near Bulgneville."
Pruette bit the right side of his bottom lip and tore a piece of skin from the outside of his lip. "Knowing Thorell, he'll move his military farther north as soon as the fighting is under control, but he won't until he knows for certain the Spanish have been defeated. I heard from Captain Papin that Frederick Henry is moving his forces along the French border to make a greater stance. If we're fortunate," he shrugged, "both Henry and Thorell might arrive within days of each other… it would be helpful to have them here, given Raboin's state of mind."
Suddenly, the explosion of a cannon sent shrapnel, dirt, snow and ice through the camp. The canvas walls of Athos' tent swayed and pulled away from the stakes in the ground. The captains covered their heads, and Athos and Comtois immediately rushed from the tent.
Musketeers and soldiers from the other regiments gathered themselves, their muskets, swords, and weapons belts, while they dove for cover. Horses reared, snorted, and pulled at their ties as they tried to escape the chaos. Only those mounts with years of experience stood strong, with their ears forward, nerves flinching, and tails swatting.
More explosions occurred.
"Who's on guard?" Athos shouted as he ran for the horses. Finding Kelpie already saddled and held tight by Jacques, he grabbed the reins and quickly mounted.
"Guidry's unit!" Comtois replied and ducked as chunks of manure and ice fell from the sky.
Athos pulled on Kelpie's reins, and the big black arched his neck, snorted, and chewed the bit as saliva dripped from his mouth. He danced with excitement, knees raised with each step, and his ears forward as he waited for the next cannon to fire.
It happened in repetition. The Spanish cannons were loaded and fired in succession from the southern end of their encampment to the northern end. During the cease-fire they had shifted their trajectory and moved forward, enabling themselves to cover more ground and attack Raboin's military at their base — not the battlefield.
"Aramis!" Athos shouted as Aramis grabbed his weapon and was about to lead his men forward. "Hold back!"
"We will never survive a direct charge," Captain Duris shouted as he mounted his horse. He kicked the horse's sides and galloped toward Athos and then yanked on the reins, pulling his mount to a stop. "We have to eliminate the cannons!"
Athos held Kelpie's reins tightly. "Do not attack!" He shouted and looked toward the other captains as they struggled with their mounts while the cannons continued to roar. Athos looked at the chateau and then at Comtois. "Keep the men back and fire only when needed — we don't have the ammunition to spare."
"Where are you going?" Comtois said.
"To speak with the general," Athos said and nudged Kelpie's sides. The big horse lunged forward and galloped toward the chateau.